


Your Tomorrow

by Empress37



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I killed all my favourite ships, I killed so many wonderful gays, If you ship them i probably killed at least one of them, Sad, saaaaaaaadddddddddd, seriously this is just sad, so many people die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 05:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17781473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress37/pseuds/Empress37
Summary: When faced with the end, what does it take to ensure a tomorrow?





	Your Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this at 10:00 PM and finished it at 6:30 AM. 
> 
> Seriously, don't read this if you aren't in a good place.  
> I don't claim the writing is good, because it was written during a sleep deprived rampage, but it still features a lot of death.

The gust was bitter, the frigid temperature biting through her heavy cloak. Yet Jaina was barely cognizant of the shiver that wracked her body. Her gaze rested unyielding in the distance. Fixated on the army spread below. They seemed limitless in number, their camp stretching beyond her vision.

She didn’t want to even guess at the vast numerical differences between the army before her and the one camped at her back. Of course, that didn’t stop her rebellious mind from doing it anyway, like an automatic reaction. At least ten-to-one. Perhaps more.

Their foe had been clever. Had waited until both Alliance and Horde exhausted themselves fighting each other. When their numbers dwindled and the will to fight had all but gone out, that’s when they’d struck.

Rising from the deep with the power of the old gods at their backs and an ancient queen at their head, the naga had swept across Azeroth, crushing all attempts at resistance.

Islands and coastal territories were naturally the first targets, and thus, the first to fall. Jaina could still see the cities awash in flame, hear her people screaming. The legendary fleet of Kul Tiras burning.

Her magic had saved precious few, but not all those she’d held closest. Tandred had gone down with the fleet, fighting a hopeless battle to give others time to escape. The image of his ship being dragged beneath the churning waves still woke her in the dead of night when she dared to rest.

Katherine had survived, barely. She’d lost her left arm to the poison tipped spear of a naga warrior. She’d fought, struggled against the toxins valiantly. But nothing, not her stubbornness or Jaina’s magic could stop it. She died in Jaina’s arms while their home burned in the distance.  

The Alliance had quickly fractured. Not because of betrayals or any great schemes for power. No. Their enemy had merely outplayed them. The naga had struck when everyone was at their weakest, and they’d known exactly where to strike.

The night elves had been among the first to perish. The naga had struck upon their ancient kin with an unfathomable fury. Their armies, their leadership were decimated within weeks. Both Tyrande and Malfurion we lost, slaughtered with their people under a tide of naga spears and magic.

The few survivors that remained were led by Maiev Shadowsong and Shandris Feathermoon. With each battle their numbers dwindled, but their vigor, their fury, remained unabated. To look into any of their eyes was to see one who had accepted death. None hoped, nor, Jaina thought, even wanted to survive. Their only purpose of existence was to slay as many for as possible before they finally fell.

Stormwind fared no better. The city itself fell within a single night. Naga rising from the sea overran the city and decimated everything in their path. By the time Jaina had arrived, nothing but bodies and smoke greeted her. Among them, the corpse of a boy who had once called her auntie. A boy who had wanted nothing more than to see the world at peace, to do good.

The rest of the kingdom was not spared the devastation. The stragglers had formed up under Jaina’s banner, for what little good it did them. Weeks of running, pitched battles had yielded nothing but more deaths, earned them nothing but another step towards their demise.

It was desperation and simple logic that led Jaina to seek help. Azshara was a threat to everyone, not just the Alliance. The only chance of survival was to unify.

The Horde hadn’t been spared from Azshara’s ambition. Like the Alliance, costal cities and islands had been overrun within the opening weeks of the invasion. Yet, the horde had one distinct advantage that nobody had counted on. Sylvanas Windrunner.

Somehow, the banshee had known, or at the very least, suspected what was about to happen. While the Horde had still suffered devastating losses, they had managed to survive, to at least bloody their enemy in kind.

Tauren lands had become on of the few places to not be decimated by the naga. Jaina attributed part of their success to the climate and the rest to their relatively isolated location. Still, by this point, even their lands threatened to fall any day.

It was ironic, that the last shining beacon of hope for the paltry survivors of the Alliance, was the city of Orgrimmar. The seat of power for some of the most reviled figures in recent history, individuals who had started wars that led to the deaths of thousands. This was now their refuge.

Jaina remember the day well, when she’d arrived before the warchief, the banshee queen, and asked, begged for an alliance. For sanctuary.

They’d had few dealings in the past. Jaina remembered a woman full of scorn and hate. An undead creature who seemed to feel no pity or remorse. She met any situation with either unbridled fury or a teasing smirk and a flippant attitude.

Jaina had been ready to endure endless boasting, gloating that would go on for days. She’d been prepared to humiliate herself, to get on her knees and beg. She would have done anything for the people who’d put their trust in her.

She’d barely gotten a word out before Sylvanas had cut her off, welcoming them to the Horde and telling them to ‘Get their asses in the city already’. Two hours later her people were being given homes and Jaina had been standing in a war meeting with the surviving leaderships of both Alliance and Horde.

Of course, the woman Jaina had come to know as the banshee queen hadn’t entirely disappeared. Sylvanas’s snark and attitude remained largely unchanged. Yet she was willing to work with Jaina, with others, to listen to their opinions and ideas. Which begged the question, was this a new development, or had Jaina merely never seen the facet of the undead woman before.

It had been months since that day. They’d fought together, shed blood together, shed it _for_ each other. Jaina had saved Sylvanas’s life as many times as the banshee had saved hers.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened. When they started fighting in battle like they’d been doing it all their lives. They moved together, without speaking most times, reading each other without hesitation.

Outside of battle, during the rare moments of peace, that ability, that uncanny sense of each other they’d developed, continued. Logically, Jaina was sure it had only been going on for a few weeks. The times she found herself in Sylvanas’s company when there was no reason to be. No reason apart from one simple feeling, one simple desire that almost felt foreign to her it had been so long since she’d felt it. She _wanted_ to.

At first, Jaina was sure the feeling was solitary. Sylvanas surely was not afflicted by the same lingering want that hovered in her chest like a kernel of warmth that glowed brighter when it was fed. But, slowly Jaina began to notice a detail that she’d been missing. Or perhaps it was a recent development. She couldn’t pinpoint when it had started. Every time she wanted to find Sylvanas, wanted to feed that warmth, the banshee was simply there. As though summoned by Jaina’s thoughts.

Whatever it was. Whatever was developing between them, whatever that small seed desperately wanted to grow into, went unspoken of between the two of them. For her part, Jaina dreaded bringing it up. It seemed every good thing in her life that she acknowledged, that she tried to nurture and keep safe, it always ended in ashes. In death. Maybe, just maybe if she didn’t grasp this too tightly, didn’t try to force a clarity and understanding of it, just maybe it wouldn’t be torn from her.

“Proudmoore.”

Jaina didn’t jump at the voice, her body wasn’t shocked into a state of alertness. There was no flood of adrenaline that once shot through her body at the voice. She wasn’t tensed, ready to a fight. The shiver she barely contained was a _very_ new development and yet another thing she would leave unacknowledged and unexamined.

Sylvanas seemed to materialize directly behind her, stepping up to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. The warchief’s large pauldron just barely brushing Jaina’s own armour. That burning red gaze looked out to the army laid out before them.

“Have you glared them all to death yet?” That familiar, teasing lilt that once annoyed her had Jaina’s shoulders relaxing fractionally.

“Not yet,” came her dry reply. A smile touched upon her lips when the throaty chuckle erupted beside her.

“Well keep trying. Save me a lot of arrows tomorrow.”

“Do you think we’ll win?” It was a foolish question, one that had gone unspoken in the week they’d been frantically planning. But here now, in what may be their last moment of peace, she had to ask.

“I do.” Sylvanas’s voice was sure, filled with an iron that had seen her through more trials than anyone should have to endure. “Tomorrow we’ll kill the bitch and her snakes will slither back to the ocean.”

Finally, Jaina turned to look at the undead elf, took in that strong jaw, those long ears that flicked slightly at every chilled breeze that brushed them. The black streaks of tears burned into her skin, yet another testament to the horrors this woman had been subjected to.

Burning red eyes, glowing like embers in the night flicked over to meet Jaina’s. That same certainty Sylvanas held in her voice was reflected in her expression. Standing before her was Sylvanas Windrunner, once Ranger-General of Silvermoon, Banshee Queen of the forsaken, Warchief of the Horde.

But Jaina didn’t want that woman. She didn’t want those titles. She wanted the woman behind them. She just wanted Sylvanas.

Maybe it was the uncertainty of tomorrow. Perhaps is was a result of everything that had been building between them. Or perchance it was just the solitude and the cover of darkness that gave her the courage to act, to do something she never would have dreamed only months ago.

Sylvanas’s skin was cool to the touch, yet the skin of her cheek was still soft beneath Jaina’s palm. She could feel the sharp cut of cheekbones beneath her thumb.

Sylvanas took in an audible breath, her shoulders straightening to send her posture ram-rob straight. Those eyes seemed to burn with an even greater intensity. Jaina met the stare head on, it wasn’t just stubbornness that compelled her to hold it, it was desire. She didn’t want to look away.

Sylvanas said nothing, her eyes seeming to search Jaina’s face for something, likely an explanation for her actions. Jaina had none to give, her thumb continued to stroke a gentle path along the elf’s cheek. The cool skin slowly warmed beneath her palm.

“Do you think we’ll make it out of this alive?” Jaina’s voice barely carried over the wind, but the twitch in Sylvanas’s ears told her the elf had heard.

“We’ll win.” The banshee’s voice lowered to match Jaina’s, as though they were both afraid to disturb whatever was happening.

“Sylvanas…” words caught in her throat. Words that had formed unbidden. Words she wasn’t even sure of yet. What could she say? What did she _want_ to say? There was so much-

Jaina stiffened when cold lips pressed against her own, swallowing the small gasp she released. It took no more than a heartbeat for her to respond, to kiss back. It wasn’t desperate, not a frantic action born of unbridled need or passion.

The glide of Sylvanas’s lips against hers was soft, a gentle caress that had her body flooding with a warmth that left every nerve tingling. This wasn’t a kiss to silence, to misdirect. This was meant to reassure, to _show_.

When they pulled apart, their lips still ghosted against each other. Sylvanas’s forehead rested against her own. Jaina’s eyes had closed at some point, she couldn’t even remember the moment it happened. She took in a shuddering breath, letting them open, taking in the scorching gaze that waited for her.

Neither said a word, Jaina didn’t even look away as she flicked a hand backwards, feeling the rush of power through her body as the portal flared to life behind her. Her hands gripped to Sylvanas’s collar tightly, stepping backwards without letting go. Either broke their gaze. Jaina never wanted to look away from those eyes, from what she saw within them. Hope, and something else that should have terrified her, but in this moment, for this one night, she wanted to drown in the possibility of what she saw. The future.

* * *

 

The moment the familiar weight settled over her shoulders, Alleria couldn’t help but smile. The warmth and comfort that wrapped around her was second only to the arms that followed mere seconds later.

“You’ll get sick if you stay out much longer, my heart.” The smooth rich voice curled into her ear, hot breath warming the elf’s skin.

“Good think I have a dragon to keep me warm.” Alleria looked over her shoulder, meeting the red gaze of her wife.

Alexstrasza chuckled, a low rumble in her throat, full rosy lips pulled into a bright smile that shone brighter than any fire. Still smiling she pressed a gentle kiss to Alleria’s own cold, slightly chapped lips.

“I knew you only used me for my heat.”

Alleria smiled in turn, bringing her hand up to press against a warm, silky smooth cheek. Alexstrasza was always warm, her heat radiating out to envelop Alleria, to wrap around her and hold her. The dragon aspect surrounded her with a feeling of love and safety that Alleria had never known in her thousands of years. Feelings she’d never thought she could truly experience. That she _deserved_ to experience.

But this wonderful, loving woman with a boundless heart had taken her, had showed her just what she’d been missing. What she’d been craving her whole life. What she _deserved_.

“You worry for tomorrow.” Alexstrasza spoke unprompted, her eyes shifting close as she nuzzled into the elf’s palm, arms hugging her closer.

“I do.” There was no sense in lying. Not only would her wife see through it, but Alleria never wanted to lie to this woman. There was nothing she would ever hide, ever keep from the woman who had taken the shattered pieces of her heart, of her very soul, and pieced them back together with kind, loving hands.

“I do not know the future. But I do know tomorrow I will be by your side and whatever fate awaits us, we will face it together.” The dragon aspect opened her eyes, eyes that reflected the fires burning within her.

Alleria met the gaze with her own skyblue eyes. “I love you.”

That blinding, warming smile appeared again. “I love you, my heart.”

The arms around her tightened and Alleria found something she could only ever find in the arms of the dragon queen. She found her peace.

* * *

 

The sound of gentle breathing was a balm to the ache in her heart, the only thing that could truly soothe it anymore. Vereesa smiled down her sleeping boys. They’d both crawled into her bed tonight, the first night in a long while.

They were old enough to know what was going to happen tomorrow, how heavily everything weighed on the battle to come. Maybe that was why they fell asleep holding onto her tightly. Galadin her tunic clutched tightly in his fist, while Giramar clutched onto her arm as though it were the stuffed bear he’d stopped sleeping with years ago.

Her hand gently ran through Galadin’s shaggy red locks, while she pressed gentle kisses to Girmar’s brow anytime he shifted.

She smiled shakily down at them, basking in their presence, in this fleeting moment of happiness and peace. She wished more than anything Rhonin was still here, that he could hold her. She wanted nothing more than to see his smile, to hear his laugh. She saw it in her children every day, but no, in what may be some of her last moments, she wanted him.

Galadin grumbled slightly, shifting further against her. Vereesa tilted her head away for just a moment, ensuring the errant tear fell on her shoulder. He continued to shift, on the verge of waking.

Without thought, Vereesa began to sing softly, the lyrical notes of Thelassian drifting through the room. Galadin stilled, letting out a happy sigh as she sank against her once more. Vereesa’s smile shook, but it was true. This was enough. It would always be enough.

* * *

 

“I’m thinking, a dagger for each eye. That’s, what does she have, four?”

“Five.”

“Mmm, a good number. Gotta carry a lot of daggers though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Liadrin muttered, wiping off the last bit of polish from her armour.

“Bet I get her before you.”

Liadrin rose from her seat, fixing her armour carefully to the stand. “I think that’s going to be Jaina and Thrall’s job.”

“Tch, why do the magic folk get all the fun?”

“Just lucky I suppose,” Liadrin offered a shrug. She finished up with her armour and moved back to the bed, tugging off her boots.

“Salandria asleep?”

“Last I checked.” She’d just gotten her final boot free when the bed dipped behind her and two arms wrapped around her torso, a curtain of golden hair cascading down her left side, glowing emeralds filled her vision, accompanied by a teasing smirk.

“So, big battle tomorrow. Does that mean I get the good lovin tonight?” Long eyebrows waggled playfully.

In a blink, Liadrin twisted her body, swinging herself fully onto the bed and pinning the smaller elf underneath her. Valeera was faster than her by tenfold, but not stronger. Liadrin held herself above the assassin, a hand on either side of her head. She kept the rouge firmly in place with a firm flex of her legs.

“Is that what you want?” Liadrin asked, her voice a far cry from the rogues teasing lilt. The paladin’s voice was filled with nothing but sincerity, with understanding. She knew exactly what Valeera was doing, and she knew why.

“Pfft,” the assassin rolled her eyes playfully, that grin back on her lips. “When don’t I? I mean, you’re not exactly terrible at it.”

Liadrin saw through the act like glass. She brought a hand up, balancing all her weight on one hand as she gently stroked down the assassin’s cheek. “Valeera,” she whispered, voice laced with emotion she would normally hide.

They’d played this game for so long. Affection between them had slowly grown to a place where it was readily shown, but never spoken of. Not tonight, tonight she wanted everything.

“Tell me what you want.”

She saw the comprehension settle into the assassin’s face. The cynical part of Liadrin expected annoyance, or even outright rejection. What she saw was an unmasking. What she saw was unbridled emotion settle into those delicate features she’d memorized over their time together.

“You,” Valeera breathed the sound barely travelling the scant distance between them. “All of you.” It was a confession, it was Valeera’s confession.

“I love you.” Now it was Liadrin’s confession.

She saw those blood red lips tremble, that the faintest shimmer in arcane green eyes. Valeera did not reply with words. She surged up, pressing their lips together in a searing, frantic kiss. But she didn’t need words. She’d heard Liadrin’s admittance, she’d heard and accepted it. It was everything the paladin had ever wanted.

* * *

 

The rasp was steady, rhythmic, it filled the tent and echoed throughout the otherwise silent space. Eyes the colour of moonlight never left the wetstone as it travelled the length of the short blade clutched in a tight fist.

Maiev watched, her expression hidden by her helmet. She stood motionless, eyes taking in the form of the night elf. Her stiff movements, ears that drooped more than usual. Neither skintone nor eye markings could hide the heavy bags etched under silver orbs.

“Shandris,” Maiev’s voice grated more than usual. When was the last time she’d spoken? It felt like ages. The elf’s head snapped up at her voice. “The blade is sharp. You need rest.”

“I’m fine,” Shandris returned her glare to the weapon, wetstone resuming its work.

“Shandris,” Maiev tried again, taking a step forward. “We need you at your best tomorrow.” That got the younger elf’s attention. “Tomorrow we will claim our vengeance. I would have you well rested.”

Shandris sighed, letting her head fall for a moment. Maiev thought the younger elf may argue, but she rose, sheathing the blade and setting it beside her bow and full quiver.

“Promise you’ll rest too?”

Maiev bowed her head slightly, “Of course.”

Shandris nodded, pausing only when Maiev laid a hand on her shoulder. She…she wanted to wrap the younger elf in her arms and hold her, just once. It took everything she had not to. It wasn’t her place. She hadn’t earned that right, not after she’d failed her so spectacularly.

“Good night.” Maiev spoke, letting her hand fall away.

Shandris gave her a tentative smile. “Good night Maiev.”

Once she saw the younger elf preparing for sleep, Maiev made her exit. The camp was small, made up solely of her kin who remained able to fight. They numbered under a thousand. Perhaps a thousand more were safely housed within Orgrimmar proper.

The force of night elves had camped a distance away from the city, it would be their duty to attack the enemy forces from the rear. The distraction and chaos they sowed would be integral in the battle. All they needed to do was draw Azshara’s attention for but a moment.

Maiev stopped at a small gathering of sentinels, all of whom nodded to her, their faces grim.

“Do you understand what must be done?” She knew they did, but she couldn’t help but ask, one final time. Maybe she was asking herself. All of them nodded. “Remember, you do this for our people, for our future. Do not fail.”

More nods, this time far more determined were her answer. Maiev stepped away from the group, casting one last look back at the tent. She didn’t wish for forgiveness, she knew that she’d never earn it, that she didn’t deserve it. Her life was a chronicle of failure to protect her people, to protect those who mattered. But this she could do, this one good thing.

The warden’s steps carried her past the edge of the camp, her feet slowing to a stop once she was truly alone. Her gaze fell skyward, absorbing the sight of a full moon that greeted her, like a sign.

Maiev lowered herself to her knees, a weariness in her bones that seemed heavier each day she went on. She stared at the moon, taking in every detail of it, letting its light wash over her.

She had not prayed to Elune in decades, nor did she intend to start now. She’d broke with the goddess long ago and she’d made peace with that. Her eyes stayed on the great, shining giant in the sky.

“Tyrande,” Maiev heard the crack in her own voice, felt the tremble of emotion in her chest, the tightness of her throat, but she did nothing to hide it. There was nobody here to witness except that of her beloved.

“I’m sorry I failed you. I failed our people. Again.” With a tremble in her hands, the warden reached up to remove her helmet, revealing her scarred face, letting the silver light touch her skin. “But I will keep my promise to you. She’ll be safe. She’ll lead our people to their future.” Maiev’s eyes fell shut, she felt the wetness claw its way down her cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. When she opened her eyes again, when she looked at that bright light, she smiled. “I’ll see you soon, my love.”

* * *

 

Jaina woke to an emptiness at her side. She’d spent years that way, the feeling had become natural to the point where she didn’t even recognize it anymore. But last night, had been different. When her eyes had finally drifted shut, it was to the feeling of a body warmed by her own heat pressing into her back. Arms strengthened by countless years of warfare and training holding her like she was something precious.

That had been enough to undo all those years of loneliness, of feeling bereft of something vital. It caused her to wake far quick than was usual, eyes frantically scanning the room. She let out an unconscious breath of relief when she was quick to locate the source of her temporary distress.

Sylvanas was buckling on the last of her armour, the first rays of light filtering through an open window. As though sensing her stare, the banshee looked up, burning embers meeting ocean blues.

“I wasn’t sneaking off.” Sylvanas said, securing the final buckle.

Jaina couldn’t help but smile. “I know.” And somehow, she did. She knew Sylvanas wasn’t going to run, wasn’t going to pretend last night hadn’t happened.

As if reading her mind and wanting to prove the point, the banshee crossed the room in three long strides. She brought a leather clad hand to cup Jaina’s cheek, bending over to meet the mage for a slow, lingering kiss.

Jaina could still taste traces of herself on those sinfully soft lips. She let out a soft, happy sigh at the action, bringing her hand up to tangle into pale blonde tresses, seeking to deepen the kiss. Her tongue had barely slipped inside that wonderful mouth before the owner pulled back with a chuckle.

“As much as I would like to continue this, we do have a rather busy day.” Despite her words, Sylvanas leaned in for another kiss, this one far quicker before she pulled away and stood straight.

“The army will be mustering, we’ll need to be down soon.”

The banshee made to step away, but Jaina caught her hand. “Wait,” she looked up, worrying at her lip for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Promise me this isn’t the end.”

It was unfair, Jaina knew it was. Sylvanas couldn’t promise such a thing. But right now, she needed to believe it. She’d dared finally allow what had been growing in her to bloom unhindered. Now she needed to know that it wasn’t going to be snatched away.

Sylvanas leaned back down, both hands coming up to cup Jaina’s face. The most earnest looked she’d ever witnessed on the banshee overtook her face.

“I promise you, this isn’t the end. There will be a future, for Horde and Alliance. A future of peace.”

Jaina didn’t-couldn’t respond with words. She could only bury her fingers in pale strands and press their lips together in a kiss filled with everything she _wanted_ to say. Sylvanas responded in kind, cradling Jaina’s face so delicately as she returned the kiss with equal vigour.

When they finally did come apart, neither spoke a word, each gazing into the other’s eyes. Jaina didn’t want the moment to end. She wondered how long she could bend time to keep this right here, in this small bubble of happiness they had managed to find.

Before she could come up with an answer, Sylvanas moved back again, giving Jaina a surprisingly soft smile. “Get dressed. We have a war to win.”

* * *

 

“Together again,” Sylvanas looked over at her siblings, giving them a grin.

“Not for the last time, I hope.”

Sylvanas blinked at her older sister, what could only be described as a dumbfounded expression on her face. She’d have expected such hopeful sentimentality from Vereesa, but from Alleria it was a shock.

The eldest Windrunner looked over with a knowing smirk. “What, you don’t want to spend time with your big sister?”

Sylvanas just continued to blink owlishly, turned her head to look at Vereesa who giggled. She actually giggled. Gods, when was the last time Sylvanas had heard that sound?

“Don’t look at me. She’s been like this ever since she married Alexstrasza.”

Sylvanas shook her head, scraping her senses together. She shot her older sibling a teasing smile. “Remind me to send her something shiny. Dragons like shiny things, right?”

Her reflexes barely saved her from the hand that came for her ear. Alleria’s laughter filled the air. It stabbed at Sylvanas’s heart, yet another sound she hadn’t heard in far too long.

“Still think you’re funny I see.”

“I _know_ I’m funny.”

Sylvanas dodged a second attempt at her ear, spinning away to give her sister a smug grin. All three of them chuckled, their laughter carrying over the heavy marching of thousands of troops. For just a moment, it was just like it used to be, she could almost smell the trees of Windrunner village.

The sounds died down all too soon and reality forced its way back amongst them. Sylvanas straightened her back, donning the mantle, the mask she needed.

“Alleria, you’ll be with the dragon queen, your primary task is hunting down their mages.” A frim nod and set jaw answered. “Vereesa, I need you with me. We need to clear a path to Azshara and keep the naga off Jaina and Thrall.”

“Jaina?” Vereesa raised an eyebrow, “since when is she Jaina to you?” There was a knowing glint in the youngest Windrunner’s eyes.

“Not now sister,” Sylvanas groaned, giving her head a soft shake. “We need to keep them safe so they can take the bitch down. Once the night elves hit the enemies rear, that’s when we move, understood?”

“Understood.”

Sylvanas paused. She let out a breath, allowing the masks and responsibilities to lift from her shoulders, just for a moment. She reached out, grasping Vereesa and Alleria’s hands, giving them a strong squeeze, they returned it immediately.

“Stay safe sisters.” She gave them a smile, one last smile before breaking the contact and striding away, the mask sliding firmly in place. She would do whatever it took to keep them all safe. The future belonged to them.

* * *

 

Blood and death were everywhere, surrounding her, overriding her senses. All she could smell was the coppery tinge of blood, the sickly smell of burnt flesh and smoke from countless fires. The screams of the dying and living drummed in her ears. Smoke stung at her eyes, forcing her to blink it away.

Her limbs felt so heavy, every muscle ached. She was careful not to strain her powers, not to give up too much before they confronted Azshara.

A cadre of warriors surrounded her and Thrall. Orcs, humans, elves, tauren, all fought side by side against the onslaught. At their head, were the two Windrunner sisters. Sylvanas and Vereesa moved as one. No arrow missed its mark, every swipe of a blade found an artery.

They were the tip of the spear, thrusting deep into the naga lines. The night elves had struck mere moments ago and they’d already felt the effects. Confusion gripped the enemy for a moment before the majority of their mages redirected their attention to the new threat.

Above, dragons swooped down amongst the combatants, breathing death and destruction amongst the enemies. The bodies of a dozen lay scattered amongst the field, brought low by enemy magic. The massive form of the dragon queen still soared above them, killing dozens with every pass. On her back, the proud form of the eldest Windrunner, her arrows finding leaders and mages in equal measure.

“Push!” Sylvanas’s voice echoed with the power of her banshee self, cutting through the din of battle like a blade.

Jaina surged forward with Thrall and the warriors around her. She impaled three naga on an ice lance, never breaking stride. She could see their target in the distance. Azshara stood on a raised mount, her attention on the night elves as she hurled deadly spells their way.

The distance between them dwindled, but so did their momentum. The warriors around her began to fall, cut down by the seemingly endless tide of naga. Jaina narrowly avoided a trident to the chest, only to catch and arrow in her side. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she sent a lance of ice through each of the serpent’s.

She looked forward, only to see a wave of the creatures bearing down on her. Before she could decide on the least draining spell to deal with them, a great scream ripped through the air, causing all nearby to flinch.

The shadowy form of Sylvanas shot across the ground like one of her arrows, passing through over a dozen serpent’s, snatching the very life from their bodies. When Sylvanas materialized once more, she was already firing her an arrow into the eye of another creature.

“Jaina, now!” Sylvanas didn’t look back as she shouted, already knocking and firing another arrow.

The path forward was clear, Jaina turned to Thrall, a nod passing between them before they strode forward together, magic filling the air around them. It was impossible not to sense such a potent build up of power. Azshara’s five eyes turned to meet them. Jaina saw the naga queen smirk.

* * *

 

 Alleria fired another arrow into the eye of a naga commander. She braced her legs as Alexstrasza shifted underneath her. The elf scanned for more targets, her heart, already beating heavily in her chest, stuttered for a moment before it thrummed impossibly faster.

She could see Jaina and Thrall trading spells with Azshara. Naga closed in around them, the only thing stopping them from cutting down the shaman and mage were the two younger Windrunner sisters.

“My sisters!” Alleria hollered, knowing her wife would hear. “Take me to them!”

The braced herself, grabbing a thick spike as her wife shifted into a sharp dive. They passed mere inches above the heads of soldiers, closing on the embattled siblings.

“Keep hunting the mages!” She called again.

“ _I will not leave your side!”_ Alexstrasza’s voice was filled with a rare panic, a desperation as it rang in Alleria’s mind.

“You’re needed up here, leading your people.” Alleria took the few seconds she had left the place her hand on her wife’s scaled head. “Be safe, my light.”

Alleria leapt from her wife’s back, hair whipping wildly as she sailed through the air, she knocked an arrow and sent it through the skull of a naga that dared come near Vereesa.

_“Be safe, my heart.”_

* * *

 

Even in the chaos, Vereesa managed a smile as she saw her sister land neatly beside them, another arrow knocked and ready. They had no time to waste on talk, but the quick grin they exchanged was more than enough.

Vereesa took a few steps back, tightening up the semi-circle they’d formed around Jaina and Thrall. Two arrows sang from her bow in quick succession, signalling the death of two more naga.

To her back, she knew Sylvanas was still firing her dark arrows with even greater precision. On her right Alleria held her bow in her left hand, the other pulling free a short blade and plunging it into the neck of an approaching serpent.

The enemy was endless and Vereesa’s quiver ran precariously low. Four more arrows, for more dead naga. An empty grasp backwards signalled the end of her bow. She didn’t think twice about tossing the now useless weapon to the ground and pulling free both her short blades.

Naga closed in on her, seeming to sense her sudden disadvantage. She dodged and parried countless tridents and spears, her short blades snapping out to find throats and eyes. Three spears came for her at once, she managed to dodge two, hissing in pain when the third sunk deep into her thigh.

“Vereesa!”

The three naga fell seemingly at the same time, three arrows buried in their skulls. Alleria skidded to a halt next to her, already firing an arrow at another serpent that tried to capitalize on the moment.

Clenching her jaw, Vereesa pulled the spear free, white hot pain lancing through her leg, waves of agony crashing through her every second she put pressure on the wound. She stumbled, trying to maintain her grip on both short blades.

“Come on Little Moon,” Alleria appeared at her side, loosing another arrow. “Take this,” Alleria held out her bow with one hand, the other grabbing what arrows she had left and stuffing them into Vereesa’s quiver.

Alleria had barely pulled back when it happened. Two naga came, one at her back, one at her left side. Their left only one direction for the eldest Windrunner to dodge, the space occupied by Vereesa.

The youngest sister did not think, did not hesitate. She dropped both short blades, her now unoccupied hands gripping her sister’s shoulder’s as tightly as her strength would allow. With every ounce of power left on her body, Vereesa shoved her sister, sending the eldest Windrunner crashing to the ground.

The point of a trident passed over her head to sink into the flesh of Vereesa’s stomach. She felt all three prongs cut into her skin and bury deep. Her frantic heart barely managed a beat before three more entered into her chest. The last thing Vereesa Windrunner heard, was her sister screaming. She didn’t know which.

* * *

 

Alleria didn’t remember getting up from the ground. She didn’t remember burying her short blades to the hilt in the naga’s brains. It seemed one minute she was on her back and the next she was on her knees, cradling her little sister’s lifeless body in her arms.

She’d had nightmares like this. During her centuries of imprisonment, she often would wake up screaming, having vivid flashes of returning home only to find her family butchered by orcs.

This had to be one of those dreams. She would gladly trade the years of freedom, the warmth and love she’d found in Alexstrasza’s arms. She would give it all up and return to her cage if it meant this wasn’t real. If it meant her Little Moon was alive.

It must be a dream. Another nightmare. But the blood…the blood on her hands, the blood soaking into her clothes, was warm. It had never been warm in the nightmares. She’d never felt it before, never smelled it.

“Alleria!”

The eldest Windrunner jerked back, watching with wide eyes as shadows materialized into her sister. Her last sister. Because…because Vereesa was dead. This wasn’t a dream.

“Alleria you need to get up now! I can-” Sylvanas snarled, stumbling forward, a spear lodged in her side. She spat out a curse in Thelassian, driving a dagger into her attacker’s throat, jerking it sideways to open its throat completely.

Sylvanas ripped the spear free, black ichor running down her side. She was hurt. Sylvanas was hurt. Her sister was hurt!

Alleria climbed unsteadily to her feet, taking care to place Vereesa gently on the ground. The action would have cost her life, had Sylvanas not grabbed the strident and jerked it out of the naga’s grip with inhuman strength. The action meant she had to neglect her own defence, an arrow buried into her back.

Alleria took the trident from her sister’s grip, returning it to the owner. She didn’t watch the serpent die, merely content to watch for a second, seeing him writhe on the blood-stained ground and feebly try to pull the trident from his chest.

Sylvanas pulled the arrow from her back and sent it back to the archer. Her burning red eyes scanned the battlefield for but a moment, her body jerking when her gaze settled. Alleria followed her sisters’ eyes.

Jaina and Thrall were still battling Azshara, but naga were closing on them, forcing Thrall to abandon the fight and defend Jaina.

“Go!” Alleria shouted, gesturing towards the pair. “I’ll cover you.”

Sylvanas merely nodded before turning to sprint towards the mage and shaman. Alleria kicked a discarded spear into the air, snatching it up just in time to deflect an incoming thrust aimed at her chest. She easily batted the weapon aside and sunk her own into the attackers throat.

She didn’t even have time to pull the weapon free before she felt the burning pain of her flesh being pierced. She growled like an animal, pulling the dagger from her hip and hurling it at the naga.

She could feel the hot blood pouring down her side, mingling with the blood of both her kin and naga. Her limbs, already weary from battle felt more sluggish, her reflexes dulled by exhaustion and the life seeping from her.

Alleria stumbled back, trying to avoid another pointed tip of a spear as it came for her throat. Her boots caught on the body behind her, sending her tumbling to the ground. She cried out in pain as the fall tore the spear from her side.

The naga pressed its advantage, driving its weapon down, seeking to impale her. She rolled to the side, not stopping the sharp scream that tore from her throat as her wounds flared. She came to a stop beside Vereesa’s body.

Snatching her discarded bow, Alleria drew an arrow from her fallen sister’s quiver, sending it into the reptilian eye of her attacker. No sooner had the naga fallen, another took its place. Alleria snatched another arrow, killing another naga.

When the third came, her hand grasped empty air. The spear came hurtling down towards her chest. She caught it on her bow, twisting the weapon to send the spear driving into the earth beside her. Her foot lashed out, striking the serpent in the face. The thing hissed in pain or anger, she didn’t know or care. It was enough to loosen the things grip on the weapon. In a single deft movement she spun the spear and drove it into the naga’s open mouth.

Alleria screamed in pain when she felt she serrated metal plunge into her stomach, cutting through skin and organs. Her vision filled with spots, blurring at the edges. Her grip on the spear slackened, she used the last of her strength to tear it free and thrust it into her killer. She had no idea if it was a mortal wound or not. She felt the resistance, was dimly aware that the spear in her stomach didn’t move, but that was the last feeling.

Had she let go of the spear? Was the naga still writhing in pain on the end? She hoped it was. But she couldn’t see to check, couldn’t open her eyes. Or were they open? She didn’t know.

She didn’t care about the naga. She didn’t care about the battle. She just wanted Vereesa back. Maybe this was just a dream, that’s why she couldn’t see. Maybe she would wake up in Alexstrasza’s arms and everything would be okay.

* * *

 

Sylvanas drove the trident completely through the naga, impaling the companion behind him on the same weapon. She relinquished the weapon, prying another from the grips of a naga that tried to stab her in the back. She shoved the thing so far down the serpent’s throat he remained upright even after she let go.

Rage boiled inside her like she’d never felt before. It was all she could focus on. All she could use. She’d heard Alleria’s final scream, looked in time to see her body still and not move again. She’d heard the roar of the dragon queen, felt her descend to the ground, but Sylvanas hadn’t seen what transpired next. She could still hear the dragon, so at least she fought on.

Sylvanas turned to find Jaina. The mage had taken two steps forward, a furious snarl on her face as she and the naga queen continued to trade spells in a blinding display of raw power. The remains of Thrall lay scattered several steps behind the human. One of Azshara’s spells having obliterated the shaman.

Yet the act seemed to have cost the naga queen. Sylvanas could see the panic slowly forming on her face. With each passing second, Jaina seemed to be gaining momentum. If the mage could keep it up, it would be over in moments. Sylvanas only needed to protect her until then.

She leapt back into the fight, intercepting a naga heading directly for the human. Sylvanas drove her dagger into the back of his skull, sweeping up his spear as he fell. Two more of the serpents came for her. Two more fell before they got within striking distance.

She’d lost count of how many she’d slain. But it mattered not. She was tireless, she could keep killing until none were left.

The naga continued to approach at a frenzied pace. Perhaps they sensed their mistress’s impending demise. Perhaps they merely wanted to strike a vulnerable target. Sylvanas cut them down as quickly as they came. Her banshee form allowing her to cross distances far quicker than the serpent’s.

Yet, she was still only one person. She could not stop the tide alone. It was bound to happen. When it did, Sylvanas felt something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Fear.

“Jaina!” The call tore free from her lips unbidden. She couldn’t cross the distance fast enough, too many serpent’s barred her way. She slashed and jabbed frantically with a pilfered spear, cutting dozen a dozen of the creatures, but she would still be too late, even if only just.

The mage spun at her call, eyes going wide when she saw the naga already within striking distance. The serpent thrust forward, trident glinting dangerously in the high sun. Jaina’s hand snapped out, a bright blue barrier flaring to life before her, sparking as the trident bounced away harmlessly. The mage’s other hand flicked out, sending a bolt of pure ice through the naga.

Jaina was safe. But, the distraction was all Azshara needed. Maybe the naga queen was feeling vindictive, perhaps she had a sense of poetic justice. The spear of brilliant, glowing ice sailed through the air too fast for the eye to see. Too fast for any but an elven eye.

Sylvanas had never stopped her mad dash towards Jaina. She’d reached the human’s side just as she dispatched the naga. Sylvanas saw Azshara’s attack, saw it hurtle towards Jaina.

It was an odd feeling, pain. Sylvanas had been alive far longer than she’d been dead. Pain was a natural part of life, a rather large part of life. It wasn’t something that could easily be forgotten. Yet, Sylvanas struggled, to remember the last time she’d felt pain. True pain.

Her undead body could still experience various sensations. No matter how hard she’d tried not to since she’d been denied death, Sylvanas did still feel emotions. While anger and hatred were far easier to muster, the others were still prevalent.

She could still touch, still feel everything against her skin. She’d felt every inch of Jaina last night, spent hours worshipping the body of this incredible human. There was a strength in Jaina that Sylvanas found awe inspiring.

She’d experienced loss on a scale that Sylvanas knew intimately well. Yet she was not broken, she had not given into her hatred and wrath, had not let it consume her life. She struggled. She fought. Not for herself, but for her people. For hope. For peace.

Maybe that was why Sylvanas did it. It surely was a factor. Jaina was the future. She was what this world needed. A woman who had seen the horrors of the world, but didn’t let it change who she was. A woman who would never give up hope. Jaina was a rare thing. A leader who could flourish in both war and peace. Peace was coming. Jaina would be needed.

Yet, perhaps Sylvanas had done it for an entirely different reason. Perhaps it was because this woman, this amazing human had done something none had managed to do since her death. Jaina made Sylvanas’s heart beat again. Made her feel. Rekindled _hope_ inside her. And if Jaina Proudmoore could do that, there was nothing she couldn’t do.

Sylvanas looked down at the glowing shard of ice lodged in her chest. She didn’t feel pain. Perhaps because the attack had been ice and cold no longer affected her. Maybe her ability to feel no pain merely continued.

Pain or not, Sylvanas knew one thing. She was dying. Pain was irrelevant. The black ichor spewing from her chest was indication enough. The magic holding her body together and granting her life, only worked if there was _something_ to hold together. Even with her rapidly diminishing sight, Sylvanas knew her heart and lungs had been obliterated.

She was dying.

Sylvanas blinked, or, she thought all she had done was blink. But she was suddenly on her back, staring up at the cloudless sky. Funny, she’d always thought she’d die in darkness. It was a surprisingly nice day for such a grizzly affair.

The scream of unbridled rage was a surprise. It sounded like Jaina. She hoped the mage was alright. It would be a waste to die for nothing.

Sylvanas blinked, or perhaps she lost consciousness for a few moments. Because when her vision returned, Jaina was kneeling over her.

Tears streaked down the mage’s pale, freckled cheeks. Sylvanas had counted those freckles just last night. Ten on the right, only seven on the left. It was hard to see them now, soot stained Jaina’s cheeks, the tears cutting dirty tracks through the filth.

“Sylvanas.” Jaina’s voice was so broken. Nothing like the feisty woman she’d come to know these past weeks and months.

“Did you kill the bitch?” It was a struggle to speak. Sylvanas hadn’t needed air since she died, but now it felt like she couldn’t get enough.

“Yes,” Jaina nodded, errant tears flying from her face to land on the banshee’s. She didn’t feel them.

Yet still, she smiled at Jaina. It was over. The naga would route. They must be if Jaina was taking the time to have this farewell. They’d won. There was going to be peace. It was over.

The realization wasn’t a pleasant one. It left Sylvanas feeling bereft. Reminding her of the harsh reality she faced. Her sisters were dead. After everything…they deserved better. They deserved so much better than this. They were supposed to see the new world, to experience the peace they’d earned. At least, they could be together. They could see their mother again, and Lirath. They could be a family, like they were supposed to be.

As for Sylvanas…she knew what awaited her. She’d seen it. There was no avoiding it any longer. No more Val’kyr. There would be more mockery of life. She would not see her sisters, never feel the warmth of her mothers arms or hear her brothers laugh.

The void was waiting for her. Eternal darkness, never-ending despair, torment, and fear. That was her fate. Maybe she’d deserved it, after all she’d done.

Deserved or not, that didn’t stop her from feeling that long lost sensation again. She was afraid. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She’d made her choices, this is what she’d earned. Yet still, at the end, it didn’t seem fair. Very little in her life did.

“Jaina?” It was hard to see, but she could still make out the mage above her, tears staining those pretty cheeks.

“I’m here,” gods, she sounded so broken.

Sylvanas swallowed her fear, she tucked it down like she’d done countless times. She wouldn’t do that to Jaina, wouldn’t subject her to that.

“Don’t cry,” Sylvanas cooed, hoping to ease the mage. She tried to wipe those horrid tears away, but she barely managed to raise her arm.

Jaina, smart little mage, she seemed to know though, she understood. She grasped Sylvanas’s hand, bringing it to her cheek, pressing against it almost desperately. Sylvanas was able to move her thumb, to get rid of a few tears. But new ones kept falling.

Sylvanas blinked. Everything seemed so much darker. Was it night? How much time had passed? If she blinked again would she ever see again? Would she see Jaina? She immediately honed in on the mage, desperate to see her.

“You did it,” she smiled up at the mage. _Her_ mage. Maybe that wasn’t the truth, but in her last moments, Sylvanas wanted at least one selfish thought. She wanted to think that there had been a future where Jaina would have been hers, and she would have been Jaina’s.

“We all did it.” Jaina’s voice hitched, her breaths deep shudders that wracked her body.

There were so many things Sylvanas wanted to say. So many things she couldn’t think to say. Most of them would have added a further burden to Jaina. The words on the tip of her tongue would have destroyed her in this moment. Sylvanas bit them back, she wouldn’t inconvenience Jaina with the weight of her feelings.

But there was one thing she had to do. She was certain it needn’t be asked, but Sylvanas couldn’t let it go unasked. “Watch over my nephews, please?”

Jaina nodded in jerky motions, sobbing hiccups shaking her body. “Of course, of course I will.”

Sylvanas smiled. Her vision continued to darken, yet she held onto those ocean blue eyes like a lifeline. She knew they were the last thing she wanted to see. Those words rose unbidden to her mouth, begging to escape.

_I love you_

Sylvanas blinked.

* * *

 

Jaina stood, watching the fires burn. She felt the heat of them wash over her, sweat prickled at her pores. But she didn’t move. The pyres were beyond counting. Thousands had died today. But many more had been saved.

Jaina’s eyes looked over the row of flames before her. Each one contained a light the world had lost. A soul that could never be replaced.

They’d found Maiev Shadowsong surrounded by uncountable naga corpses, the elf’s body had been mangled beyond almost all recognition, her body impaled by a dozen weapons and arrows. Yet, those that had prepared her body, claimed the warden had a rare smile on her face.

Jaina glanced towards the elf who stood directly in front of the warden’s pyre. Apparently Maiev had arranged to have Shandris taken away from the battle against her will. She had been unanimously elected by her people to lead them.

Jaina understood to a degree what Shandris felt. She was all to aware of the gut-wrenching pain that came from knowing people you loved had died to save you. Maybe, in time, they could both work through it.

Her gaze moved back to the pyre’s unconsciously taking stock of everyone they’d lost. Almost every surviving orc had gathered infront of Thrall’s pyre.

Valeera had been found clutched in Liadrin’s arms. The paladin had bled out cradling the already dead assassin. A small blood elf child stared into the flames, clutching onto the leg of one of the last surviving Blood Knights.

Three pyre’s burned directly infront of Jaina, each one belonging to a different Windrunner sister.

Giramar and Galadin stood near Jaina, the boys clutching desperately to eachother as their bodies were wracked with sobs. Jaina had every intention of keep her promise, she’d never let anything happen to those boys so long as she lived. They had a long road to go, before any of them would be okay again, but Jaina swore she would always be there for them.

Standing far closer than any other creature could, Alexstrasza stood mere inches from Alleria’s pyre. The dragon queen was absent her regular cloak, as it burned along with the body of her wife. The dragon aspect did nothing to hide her sorrow, her large frame hadn’t stopped trembling since Alleria’s death. Arator waited several feet back, his face stoic, despite the tears dripping from his chin.

Jaina took a step closer to the roaring fire in front of her. The heat threatened to burn her skin should she advance any further.

Sylvanas Windrunner had saved them all. The final battle had been a titanic effort on everyone’s part. But none of the would have lived to see it, were it not for the efforts of the Banshee Queen.

Jaina wanted to be angry, after all, wasn’t that so much easier than the alternatives? She’d lost so much in her life. Every single person she’d ever cared about was either laying before her or was already buried. Including the woman she’d come to love.

She wanted to be mad at Sylvanas for lying to her. But, she’d realized, not once had Sylvanas ever promise to live. She’d promised victory, peace, she’d promised a future. Just not for herself. Sylvanas had kept her promise.

The naga had retreated. The loss of their queen had shattered their unity. With no apparent chain of command reliable enough to fall back on, they’d fled to the sea. Stragglers still remained, but they were little threat at the moment.

They had a future. There was a chance now to rebuild, to create a world founded on peace, built from the unity they’d forged today. Horde, Alliance, they were meaningless words now. Old divisions that had no place among them.

To prove the point, all the races had gathered, and elected a head of this new unified state. They were still working on an official title, but Jaina had, against her will, been chosen to lead them into tomorrow and the days beyond.

Frankly, she was terrified, but she wasn’t about to back down. After everything they’d fought for and sacrificed, they had earned a brighter future. _All_ of them. It hurt so fucking badly whenever she thought of all those who wouldn’t be there to see it. At least, her one consolation remained. All of them, had earned their rest, their peace. They were in a better place now.

**Author's Note:**

> I warned you. 
> 
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments!


End file.
